The announcement on Tuesday 12 June by the Royal Court that in its autumn season it would be staging a new play by the writer of the sell-out hit Jerusalem, Jez Butterworth, quickly turned from delight to dismay in some quarters when it became apparent that the Court would not be selling any seats in advance.

That's because The River is being staged in the Jerwood Theatre Upstairs, which seats around 85 people per performance – a decision taken for artistic reasons. Aware that the Ian Rickson-directed three-hander would be a huge draw, the Court decided to sell seats on the day of performance only, with an online allocation going on sale at 9am and seats for those prepared to queue available from 10am.

There have been cries of foul from some tweeters and bloggers, mostly those who have paid to join the Court's membership scheme, which like all such schemes is both a way of supporting the work of the theatre and a chance to buy tickets in advance of the rest of the world. I can quite see why some are miffed and threatening not to renew their membership, and those who live outside of Greater London are particularly badly hit: it will be near-impossible to plan a trip in advance.

But I'm inclined to think that the Court has made the right decision, and hope they have taken it for the right reasons. After all, in selling tickets in this way, they are taking all of the risk: if the social media chat and reviews are less than ecstatic, they could be left with an awful lot of tickets on their hands. Economically it's not in the Court's interests to go down this route, but artistically and in the interests of widening access it is. If people decide that they really want to see something, there is a possibility that they will be able to do so if they are prepared to make the effort. (Although I quite accept that not everyone will drop everything and arrange a baby- or dogsitter at short notice.)

The truth is that ticketing for any event, whether it's the Olympics or the theatre, is seldom fair. Many people are immediately excluded by price from access to events. Others are excluded by geography, or simply not being in the know, and when an event has a very small audience its exclusivity denies people access too. I frequently go to the Jerwood Upstairs with a friend (who is a member and buys the tickets) on a Saturday matinee, and there have been occasions when we've recognised almost everyone in the audience.

So how do you make it fairer? Exclusivity and small numbers is a problem that companies such as Punchdrunk have grappled with by getting people to register in advance, Glastonbury-style. Slung Low recently put would-be audiences in a ballot for a performance of its intimate Converging Paths. Battersea Arts Centre found a clever way to increase audience numbers for its one-on-one festival by creating bespoke evenings.

The Royal Court can't simply expand the theatre for The River or opt to run it for a year – so denying other plays and playwrights access to the space – so I think it's made a choice that other theatres may study with interest, although the risks involved mean that it's unlikely to become a regular feature of box-office strategies.

As New York's Shakespeare in the Park seasons have proved, the rich will happily pay others to queue for them and the theatre itself is creating a market for tickets. And as the National Theatre discovered during its run of One Man, Two Guvnors, even touts will queue if they see the possibility of a quick return. And, of course, if the play does then transfer to a larger space, the Royal Court's policy may look more like a marketing strategy to generate demand for a West End transfer. We'll see. Watch this space.